


The Partner, Not the Place

by jenni3penny



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny
Summary: A short little follow up to Coolbyrne's 'Burning', with permission. Gibbs enjoys a cabin morning - just not at his cabin.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88





	The Partner, Not the Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coolbyrne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/gifts).



He had gotten in late, his flights so delayed and staggered into the night that he hadn't even called when he'd gotten off the plane. He had just grabbed his bags and rented a car instead, already too exhausted and annoyed by the delays in his arrival to get picky about which sort of vehicle. Luckily the surprisingly bright-eyed man behind the overnight rental counter gave him an up and down, once-ing him over before handing him the keys to an SUV.

_"You look like you need some leg room, Handsome."_

His half smile in response had caught up with him while driving, forcing him to chuckle over it on the way to her cabin. He had forced her to give him the address before she'd left because he had seemed to know this was going to happen. Now, as he pulled up in front of the cabin he had only heard about and never seen, he appreciated the on board GPS, telling him softly that he had arrived at his destination.

He wasn't sure he would have been convinced otherwise… The small cabin in front of him couldn't have been more than three or four rooms. It had a shallowly peaked roof and another staggered slant off to the back right. Had to be a newer addition to the original building. Gibbs shut off his lights and squinted as he leaned forward, appreciating the half wrapped porch and the raw birch logs that lined it, vertically and side by side in rows. The stark bright wood set off the deep mahogany colored stain that covered most of the structure, including the porch that suddenly lit up. The yellow light washed the brown out and he caught sight of the hastily planted flower pots that lined the steps.

He couldn't help but smile when the door opened, her legs bare and her face sleepy. She didn't even seem to notice that she was pressing her cheek to the back of her hand while she waited, her other arm wrapped around her front. She had thick woolen socks on and an obviously old sweater that was baggy and bulky and cut half down her thighs. Gibbs squinted as he pulled the keys, realizing she was wearing a tiny pair of shorts under the sweater, making his heart stutter. He was suddenly very aware of how sexy she was when sleep tousled and grumpy.

Gibbs leaned out of the SUV, appreciative of the extra leg room. He grabbed the carry on he had brought and closed up the vehicle, feeling her eyes on him the entire time. She stepped to the porch edge as he got closer, the two-step height of it making her just tall enough to look down over him.

"Ya know, my cabin is closer." He dumped the bag down beside him and leaned forward without stepping up.

"Yeah?" she replied, looping her arms around his shoulders as he pressed his face wearily against her. "Well, mine has indoor plumbing so suck it up, Marine."

He smirked, running his hands up the backs of her legs and enjoying every inch of bare skin. "It's got _you_."

"That it does. Get your butt in here."

***

No more than six hours later he was trying to get up and she yanked him back into bed, growling a low rattling sound that only came out of her when she was thoroughly annoyed. He didn’t hear the sound often but he knew well enough to just follow direction whenever she used it. Testing her had its time and place, just as much as teasing her did. Early in the morning light and wadded under two thick blankets wasn’t the time.

"You need more sleep, Gibbs."

He didn't much argue it, not when she was mumbling the words against his shoulder. She less than gracefully flopped half over him after saying it, that same grumpy bear grumble coming up the side of his neck as she snuggled closer. He relaxed under her, primarily because he'd decided to never argue with Jacqueline Sloane putting her naked body anywhere against his. Also because he felt just about as tired as she was implying he should be, his eyes fighting to stay open while he enjoyed the heat of the woven blankets.

The whole place had such a keenly rustic feel while still being modern enough to be lush, decadent. A platform bedroom that hovered just three steps over a wide living space, most of the room dominated by what looked like an original fireplace. A small kitchenette took up most of the addition he had seen the night before, a bathroom off the tail end. It was just big enough for a toilet, sink and a glassed in shower. And all of it looked and smelled of her.

He could get away and survive in his cabin, get back to just the basics… but she could flourish in hers, relax and enjoy and create. The difference made him smile as she groaned and stretched farther over him.

"What if I gotta use the head?" he teased, nudging his jaw closer. He could smell the laundry soap of fresh rarely used sheets and the wood polish she had to have used the day before to spruce things up. The soapy lemon scent underscored the sweet spiced smell of her, all of it settling him in the half dark of an unfamiliar cabin.

"You were up an hour ago. Go to _sleep_ ," she demanded, her palm caging up under his jaw and holding there, his chin trapped against the base of her thumb. She kissed his cheek then, lips warmer than expected and slow. It was such a delicately intimate move, one she made flawlessly. He smiled and relaxed into closing his eyes entirely, enjoying the cocoon of heat and closeness she was creating, letting her wrap him up in it as her lips travelled his cheek and jaw.

Still. Riling her up was half the entertainment of being in a relationship with a woman like Sloane… "This is when I usually get up."

"Stay down, Gunny," she threatened, poking at his chest before using her elbow to lever herself up over him. "Just relax for once, please? That was the whole point of making you come all this way."

Leave it to her to plan an entire weekend devoted to making _him_ relax. It was the most Jacqueline Sloane thing she had done in months.

It was also why he shut up and relaxed his whole body as she stretched out over top of him, sliding one leg between his and jutting her head up under his jaw. “ _Thank_ you.”

Gibbs smirked and side-kissed the top of her head, stroking his hand up the ribboned scars that laced back and forth over her spine, “Welcome.”

***

It was such a familiar ‘thump, thump, _thump_ ’ that not being able to immediately place it had infuriated him. Its rhythm was staggered, not consistent, and it was the disorder of the sound that finally dawned on him as he poured himself a cup of coffee. She was chopping wood and likely had been for at least thirty minutes. That echoed thump had been what had finally woken him, far later than he would usually get up. He judged it mid-morning by the light that was coming into the small windows. Gibbs tested the coffee, appreciating the nearly bitter strike against his tongue as he nodded and moved toward the front door. He didn't even take the time to put his shoes on, not planning to leave the porch.

He half regretted the decision as soon as he stepped out, the porch and steps still covered in shadow and chilled. Fall was creeping up on them slowly, cooling the air even halfway into morning. He forced himself to ignore how cold it was, instead distracting himself with the sight of his… his what? His _girlfriend_? He hated that word, seemed sophomoric. _Lover_ felt too flowery, though. Partner? Significant whatever? He had no idea…

She was pretty damn sexy, though. And, by her own order, he had nothing important to do besides sit on the steps and watch her until she noticed him. A cup of good coffee on a bracing morning and Jack Sloane swinging an axe around stirred some blood up in him, that was for sure. Granted, he was simultaneously intrigued, aroused, and terrified that she would hurt herself… But she had complete control of the axe, hands balanced evenly to distribute her weight. Each swing was slow and calculated to start, momentum carrying through and culminating in the same deadened thwack he had heard while laying on his back in a bed too short for him.

Her aim was dead on most of the time and he took a long drink, letting himself enjoy the fluid movements of her body. She was sublimely in shape and he let himself appreciate it. The stump she was using as a block was in direct sunlight and she was obviously warmer than he was, hair tied back and her flannel tossed off onto the woodpile. There was something undeniably sexy about her shoulders, something he couldn’t just ignore.

"Getting enough?"

He blinked as he replayed what she had said, slow to comprehend the question while distracted by the glisten of sweat over her arms. "Enough what?"

"Rest," she shrugged off, innocent of any of the thoughts that were going through his head as he studied how deliciously well her tank top fit her.

"I wouldn't call watching you get hot and sweaty ' _rest_ ', Sloane."

Her shoulder lifted in that cute and sweet move she made whenever she was feeling charmed and playful, "Got another name for it?"

He nodded his head back and forth before shrugging, "I think Nick would call it 'pre-gaming'."

She laughed suddenly, using the back of a gloved hand to swipe at the sweat along her hairline. Her smile was wide and genuine, adoring almost. There was an incandescent brightness to her when she smiled at him that way, with affection and fun. Though she rolled her eyes at his matching smirk, turning away and back to her work as he took another drink.

"Quoting Nick Torres," she cast back over her shoulder, adjusting her grip on the handle. "Now I _know_ you needed a break."

He just grinned as she swung again, this time indulging in staring directly at her ass.

She'd been right, to be fair.

Her cabin _was_ relaxing.

***

He watched her over the rim of his glasses, interested in the low moan she made. It was obviously directed at her breakfast plate and not him, even if he had been the one to make the meal she was salivating over. Her knee came up in a move that she had seemed to patent at his dining room table, one leg drawn up to her chest and her arm around it while she sipped her coffee and turned beautiful brown eyes on him.

“You _do_ look rested,” she announced, obviously pleased with herself. “I can see it.”

Gibbs smirked at her, eyes meeting hers with a straight honesty of agreement that he wasn’t sure she expected. He nodded a couple times before dipping his head toward her plate. “Eat your breakfast.”

She was smug, sure. But that fell away as she drank her coffee, her attention on him unwavering and intent. Gibbs blinked, not uncomfortable with her attention but unsure of her thoughts and that made him fidget slightly.

“When is the last time you slept in, Gibbs?”

Obviously she wasn’t including the morning hours he had spent in her loft bed, sunken in sheets that were woven together with cotton and her scent. He considered his answer, felt his brows go down as he tried to think on it. His coffee came up as a deflection, something to do while she grabbed up a piece of bacon and chewed on it, brown eyes still attentive, still latched on him as she waited for a response.

He realized he didn’t want to give her one. Because he didn’t want to lie, even if it was to placate her, and he didn’t want to tell her the truth either.

He honestly couldn’t remember. And that was exactly her point.

But the sudden realization that sleeping in had been more a result of being comforted by her and her presence, rather than just a particular place? That knowledge had been creeping up on him all morning and had occurred to him so suddenly, accompanied by her knowing smile and the smell of sweetened up coffee.

The place didn’t matter so much. The woman beside him did.

“Why don’t you tell me how you ended up with this place?” he requested, an obvious diversion from where the conversation was heading. Jack tipped her head with a smile, popping the last bit of the piece of bacon into her mouth and chewed slowly. He watched her brain calculate and catalog his response for a moment before she nodded, brushing greased bacon crumbs from her fingers.

It only took a few moments for her to see and understand his deflection, her hand reaching for her coffee cup again as she met his eyes. She understood that she shouldn’t push and he saw leniency take her over, the acceptance lowering her shoulders just before she shrugged and took another drink. “Well… let me tell you about my track coach…”

He knew for sure then, while her eyes lit with the story she was about to tell as her breakfast got colder...

It wasn’t the place that calmed and stilled him. It was _definitely_ the woman.


End file.
